Evidence on the Box

I.I placed a plate of thin apple slices and salty tortilla chips on the table and sat down across from him. Sliding to the edge of his seat he stretched his legs downward until his feet touch the floor. Perched with just the right balance so the chair would not scoot out from under him, he reached for an apple slice, and then a chip.

It was 9:30 am and I wondered if he’d eaten any breakfast.

Me, thinking to add protein to his snack: How about some cheese? Cheddar cheese?

EN, crunching a chip: Sure, Gramma.

II.I cut three slices from a large brick of Tillamook medium cheddar and laid them on his plate.

Me: Did you eat breakfast?

EN: Yep. {Munch. Munch.} This is good, Gramma. May I have something to drink?

Me: Would you like juice or milk?

EN: Just water.

III.Silence, except for the mouth sounds of crunching chips and the tick-tick of an old clock, the one I’ve had on my kitchen wall since his mommy was a little girl.

EN interrupted the silence: Can I have more chips?

Me, putting more chips on his plate: What did you eat for breakfast?

EN, through the bites of chips, cheese and apple: Cereal. With milk.

Me: Did you eat all of it?

EN: Yep.

IV.A brief silence followed, the kind that is heavy with thinking.

EN, in a matter-of-fact tone: It has essential vitamins. And mi-nerls.

Me, in automatic correct mode: Min. er. als. Minerals.

EN, holding up his last apple slice: Uh huh. Essential vitamins and minerals

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Writing about my writing

At first glance, this doesn’t seem to be a noteworthy conversation, especially in light of the much longer, much wordier, much deeper ones we’ve had. Yes, I like that he is reading print around him. And yes, I like that he uses in oral language an unfamiliar word he’s seen in print. But these do not make it noteworthy, certainly not blog-worthy.

What makes it blog-worthy lies beneath the words. What makes it blog-worthy is the merging of the veiled threads of my thinking and his thinking as he perceives the motive behind my questioning. What makes it blog-worthy is how he rebuts my unspoken claim with evidence on a box.

I love the way this almost mundane conversation becomes poetry (Wallace Stevens-esque) in your hands. I love, too, how the child responds to your unspoken words, how he *knows* you and allays your worries with something he knows you value: reading.

I love the exchange you and your grandson had, Alice. It makes me pine for my grandbaby whom I was with last week. Amidst her babbling I am astounded by how she is trying to communicate and even read to her “babies.” Thanks for sharing your endearing tale.